Crazy Circles
by gostlcards
Summary: Mary and John can't be found in Heaven, because they're not there. Inspired by 5x16, Dark Side of the Moon. T for possibly offensive language.


_Disclaimer: Not Mine_

_AN: I don't even know. I just...got the idea and decided to run with it. Kinda What Dreams May Come inspired, although not really like it at all. Leave me love if you like it, leave me something else if you don't :D It's pretty long, and get runon-ish, but I wrote like that intentionally, so yes, I know it's like that. Tag to Dark Side of the Moon, 5x16_

* * *

It was in the fall of 2005 when Mary Winchester last laid eyes upon her sons, and sacrificed herself to save them from a particularly nasty poltergeist. In a whirlwind of fire and energy, she was gone from the home, her soul free to move forward and onto her final resting place.

3 weeks later, in upstate New York, a baby girl is born, with golden curls and twinkling, hazel green eyes. Her mother names her Mary.

John dies not even a year later, but he's trapped in a place not so pleasant. It smells bad, with blood and heat and pain. But then it's not; there's a light, and everyone around him surges forward and up. So he surges too, and because he's still John Winchester, he claws his way to the front because he knows, with every fiber in his soul, that Sam and Dean are there and they need him, and he's _so close_...

He spots Azazel, the yellow eyed bastard that destroyed his family, and he sees the gun and he sees Dean and he needs to keep him from getting hurt. So he wraps his arms around Azazel, and yanks him about and pulls him away so he drops the gun. He's thrown back and as he raises himself on his elbows, he sees Dean aim the gun at the newly repossessed figure and pull the trigger. And it's over.

He disappears in white light, like he's always heard it happens, and he has to laugh to himself because _really?_ It's just too cliche. But it's warm, and it's calm and his boys..._they'll be safe, now_, he thinks. And _it's over_.

A month and a half later, a tiny boy is born. He's premature and his lungs aren't quite developed, so he has to spend time in an incubator, but he's strong from the get-go and soon gets better. He's born to a loving family, with an older boy and he will soon have a little sister. His dad is a pilot with the Air Force, and his mother will stay at home with them. They name him John.

* * *

When Mary is 5, she still lives in the Northeast; she doesn't have a dad like the other kids in her neighborhood, but her mom does her best. She goes to kindergarten, and decides she wants to marry Davy Rhodes who lives down the street, and he agrees because he says she's pretty and gives her a flower. She makes him play house, and he's okay with it, 'cause she always serves cookies and Kool-Aid. She has two dolls that she sits at their table, and promptly informs her kindergarten husband that their names are Dean and Sam. Dean has one eye that opens and closes, but the other just stays shut, his flimsy body marred with old marker and crayon marks. Sam is a Ken doll that Davy took from his older sister, clad in jeans and blue shirt. She serves them tea and tells them that no matter what she will keep them safe. Davy soon grows bored with the game, and he decides, he does not want to be married anymore. Her mother laughs and says, that's just like a man.

When John is 5, he's already lived in three different states and has a little sister that eats up a lot of his mom's time but that's okay, cause he has a big brother that keeps him safe. They live in California now, and he likes it cause it's warm and they go to the beach a lot to swim and make sand castles. His dad is away a lot, on flight missions and other work stuff, but when he comes home is John's favorite time. It's not because he misses him (even though he does), but because of how happy his mom gets. No matter what, Daddy always brings flowers for her, and kisses her hard on the mouth and they laugh and dance to music only they can hear. John and his siblings watch with wide eyes and laughter, and John decides that he can't wait 'til he's bigger and has a wife that he can make laugh like that. He knows she'll be as pretty as his mommy, and for some reason when he thinks of her, her name is always Mary.

* * *

When Mary is 15, she's a cheerleader on the Varsity squad, a pretty fair feat for a sophomore at her high school. She begins to date a boy named Billy and he's 17 and has a car and the first time he kisses her, her head fills light and airy and she thinks, I'm going to marry him. They date for a few months before she finally sleeps with him in the back of his old convertible, and she is in love and she thinks he is too, because he tells her so. Around Halloween, he drags her to an abandoned house that is filled with urban legends and stories about a man that went crazy and slaughtered his family before killing himself. They say, on the anniversary of the murders, you can hearing crying and screaming, and every year, kids sneak in and try and stay the night. None of them ever make it and Billy is determined to be one of the first.

She doesn't want to, and he laughs and teases her until she gives in. There's something uneasy about the place, and Mary takes the stories serious, but she doesn't want to tell him that cause he thinks its all crap. She goes with him though, because he's big and strong and promises to protect her, in a teasing way. It doesn't stop her from bringing a salt shaker and a piece of iron. She has no idea why.

They sit in the decrepit living room, the furniture covered by white sheets and dust, and play cards and make out. Around 11, the creaks begin to echo throughout the home, shallow sounds of moans and whispers filling Mary's ears and she begins to get nervous. She wants to go, but he laughs at her, calls her a scaredy cat and tells her it's no big deal, that he'll protect her. She scoffs under her breath; he doesn't know how to protect her against this. She doesn't know how she knows that.

The front door is kicked in and Mary screams, but the man-make that men-that stand there are older and carrying guns, ready to shoot if need be. They quickly survey the area, and double take when they see the two teenagers. The shorter man scowls.

"Who the hell are you?" He asks, his voice gruff and impatient. He's older, maybe a few years her mother's senior and she cowers back into Billy's chest. The taller man lays a hand on his shoulder and mutters something and the shorter man backs up, the scowl deepening. "Please don't tell me you two are here for kicks."

"It's just a stupid game, dude, what the hell-" Billy begins, but he's thrown backward by some unseen force into the wall. Mary cries out and Billy just stares, eyes wide as he scrambles to his feet. "I'm getting out of here!"

He's bolts for the door, not even calling for Mary and she hears his footsteps scramble down the stairs of the porch and hears the car door slam shut. The tires squeal before Mary's even out the door.

"Billy!"

"Boyfriend's a real brave one there. Sure know how to pick 'em." The shorter man grinds out. "You need to get out of here."

She spins around on him, her eyes narrow in anger. "Well, you sure have a way with words."

"Sam, get her out of here." The short one orders, already turned away from her, his gun held ready.

"Dean..." The taller one-Sam-says softly. "This guy is a bad dude, I don't feel comfortable leaving you, and we just need to..."

"Get her out, Sam. We don't need a civilian-"

"I wanna help." She squeaks out, and both men look at her and to be honest, she's just as shocked as they are.

"Help?" Dean scoffs, and glares at her. "Honey, this ain't the Ghostfacers." (Cause somehow _that_ took off.)

"And you're not my boyfriend, so don't call me honey." She snaps back. "I can help. I'm strong."

"10 minutes ago, you didn't even want to be here!"

"Enough!" Sam yells, getting both their attention. "We're not gonna get anywhere bickering." He breathes out in anger. "What's your name?"

She stares at him for a moment, and kind of wants to leave but there's a bigger part of her that wants to stay, wants to experience this. She stands her ground. "Mary."

He softens at that, looks at her kind of weird. "Mary, huh?" He laughs softly. "Well, Mary, stay with me if you want to stay so bad. Otherwise, you need to leave now."

Dean does not look pleased, but he goes left and Sam goes right, Mary trailing behind him. "You know how to fire a shot gun?"

"Yeah." She answers, even though she hasn't ever even held a gun, let alone discharged one. He hands her a small, sawed off shotgun, and the weight just feels right. It kinda scares her. She palms at the small piece of iron in her belt loop.

"Where'd you get that?" He asks, eyeing it. She shrugs.

"I did my research?"

In the end, she doesn't need it. The ghost appears, menacing and angry, and lunges at her but Sam shoots at it and he dissipates as quickly as he appeared. Sam and Mary make their way out to the back of the house, and there's acres of land. They wander until they find a small graveyard. Dean is behind them and throws down the shovel.

"What are you going to do with that?" She asks, aghast. He doesn't answer, but glares at Sam again. She stands back in horror as they dig the grave and light the bones ablaze.

They drive her to her home later and drop her off in an old, old car and this time when Dean looks at her, it's not harsh. "You never saw us, alright? Stay out of haunted houses." She closes the door. "And dump that boyfriend of yours; he's a bitch."

They drive away, and Mary thinks that that last part will be no problem.

* * *

When John's 16, he's on the varsity football team and everyone is expected to go to the homecoming festivities the night before. It's an unofficial sort of thing; the JV comes along, as do all the cheerleaders and other more popular kids, although John's never been in that crowd really. Everyone likes him, he's just quiet, keeps to himself and smiles, staying out of trouble. At the rally, they decided they're going to have a bonfire, like you see in movies, but no one tells John about it. And since he's on the Varsity starting line, he has to be one of the ones to light the pile of wood with a torch.

One of the cute girls in school runs up to him, breathless and smiling and she's holding the unlit piece of wood, wrapped in cloth and dipped and lighter fluid and he looks at her like she's crazy. He backs away, and she rolls her eyes. He knows what they whisper about him; that he's never had a girlfriend and he doesn't even seem interested, that he must really like the shower sessions after a football game. It's really not their business and that's why he never refutes it; he just has a special girl in mind and, although he doesn't know who or where she is, he knows that when he meets her, that will be it.

As for the homecoming bonfire, he swallows hard and takes the torch, afraid to admit that he doesn't really like fire, because the truth is, he doesn't just not like it. The idea that soon someone will light this and he will have to ceremoniously throw it on this giant pile of wood so it erupts into an even _bigger_ fire scares the fuck out of him. He begins to sweat bullets and gets dizzy, and before anyone has a chance to actually light the thing, he drops it out of his shaking hands and backs up quickly, muttering a quick excuse as he hurries away from the crowd. There's a confused silence at first, but he hears one of his buddies say something and the voices rise up in a happy yell again and they start for the piles of wood, John forgotten.

He hides under the bleachers, retching and coughing and catching his breath because he's pretty sure it was a panic attack, and he thinks of the dreams. The faceless woman he can never quite reach, the small kids, the house ablaze and the fear and sadness, the smell of burnt flesh. Fire everywhere; in front of him, a body wrapped on a pyre, nightmares that caused him to scream so much that it wakes himself up, ever since he was a kid. They've died down in recent years, but he thinks now that he'll probably have a few in the upcoming weeks.

He hears steps around him, and he spins; it's the cute girl from before, and her face is kind and curious. He looks away bashfully.

"I...uh, I snuck away. You kinda left quick back there." She peeks out from behind blond curls. He clears his throat.

"Yeah, I feel pretty stupid about that right about now." He smiles halfway, sheepishly. "I don't like fire."

She nods, moving closer. "You're John, right? John Colt?"

He nods. She moves closer still, and he gets a whiff of her perfume. She smells amazing.

"I'm Katie."

She sits with him and they end up talking all night. He tells her about how he's moves around, and met so many different people and the reason why he hates fire is because he had a close family friend who died when he was younger and he had to see it. She stares at him in horror and comforts him, telling him she's so sorry and that that's awful and he legitimately feels like crying. Which is weird, because it's a complete lie; he's never even seen a house fire, let alone known anyone who's died in one. But the nightmare from his childhood feels so real, it might as well be.

"Don't tell anyone. I don't want the guys..."

"No, no, I understand." She's looking up at him with wide eyes, and he thinks to himself _Fuck. Now i've gone and confided something_, and he's pretty sure it's adoration in her eyes.

So he decides what the hell, and he kisses her and she kisses back and they spend a few hours making out under the bleachers. They date for awhile, long enough to go to Junior Prom together, but he ends it soon after because it's just not his thing. He doesn't want to be with someone for the sake of being with them. He wants the girl he's always dreamed of, the one he knows he's meant to be with. He wants Mary.

He still has no idea why it's gotta be a Mary.

* * *

When he's almost 19, John joins the Marines and goes to boot camp. He's single, so it's not as hard as it is for the other guys. Luckily, it's not wartime but he's always wanted to serve his country, like his dad. His father isn't thrilled with his decision-his dad believes the Air Force is safer than the Marine Corp, and John's smart enough for it, but John wants to be a Marine worse than anything. He's just not sure why.

He's stationed on the East Coast and spends his free time drinking with friends and living his life as he pleases, until one day, he sees_ her_. She's walking down the street, her hair held back with a headband, a stack of books in hand and she looks like she's walking with a purpose. She stops to cross the street, her face suddenly pinched with irritation. She glances around, eyes squinting in the sun and he sees her face. She's beautiful; the red hand fades to a green man and she looks to traffic as she rushes across the street. John's heart clenches in his chest because he's scared he'll never see her again.

He follows her; its a creepy, stalker kind of thing to do and he thinks he's pretty crazy, but it's like he's pulled to her and he can't stop himself. She disappears into a swirl of bodies and he loses her.

He spends his next free days and weeks at that corner, reading the paper and people watching and he never catches a glimpse of her again. He feels a loss he doesn't understand, because he never actually knew her in the first place.

A few weeks later, he's at the airport in Boston, picking up his younger sister who's in town to look at possible schools. The flight is late, and he's pacing impatiently, not watching where he's going and he spins around and slams into a warm body. Not bothering to look up, he hits his knees and begins to help pick up the papers that have fluttered everywhere.

"Oh Jeez, I'm so sorry..." He replies, gathering them in his hands as he chances a glimpse and does a double take. It's the girl from the corner, with the golden hair and, he sees now, bright hazel green eyes. She smiles at him.

"It's alright. I wasn't really watching where I was going either."

He insists that he buys her a soda because he feels bad, and she declines twice before accepting (which is only when he smiles cheekily at her and says that she owes him, since she bumped into him too, and makes her laugh). They sit at the Burger King and share some fries and wait for his sister to arrive. He finds out her name is Mary, that she's just turned 20 and she's a sophomore at a school nearby majoring in History-she's at the airport for a survey for one of her classes.

His sister appears out of nowhere and she's eyeing him like he's got a secret and she knows it. "Thought you were gonna meet me at the gate?"

He flushes and ducks his head, and smiles at Mary sheepishly, then looks back at his sister. "Well, I knocked this poor girl over so I figured I'd buy her a drink."

His sister-_Christine_-offers her hand without prompting, introduces herself and winks at the girl. "I'm sure I'll see you around soon," before excusing herself to the bathroom. There will be time to talk with her brother on the way home. John is a deep shade of red. Mary finds it adorable. She scrawls her number on a paper napkin-his cell phone is in his car, and he will damn that luck for days.

He waits until Christine leaves a few days later to call her, and he takes her out with the intent of dinner and a movie but they end up in downtown Boston instead, walking around the city at night and she kisses him first as they stand on a bridge under the stars. He decides right then that he wants to marry her, but decides to wait a few more years to mention it, knowing that if he says it right then, it may freak her out.

When he's 21 and she's almost 23, he drops to one knee at that exact spot and pulls out a ring. Mary says yes.

* * *

They've only been married for a year when they start having problems. Not marital problems, mind you...but weird, strange problems that are affecting their new home. First its the electrical wiring, and then it seems to be their heat-it always feels cold in certain spots in the house. He's always heard the first year of marriage is hard, but this hasn't been bad at all; they fight, for sure, but it's never serious and the make up sex is almost always worth it. It could be where they're living; now that he's out of the Corps, they've settled in a small town near Kansas City while Mary works at a nearby museum and starts on her Masters. He's working as a mechanic at an O'Reilly's Auto Parts while he starts his undergrad part time. Yeah, money's tight and the house leaves something to be desired, but it's him and Mary against the world, so it's pretty much an ideal life, at least to him.

There's a string of murders in the town that adds to the issues, and soon, two police officers show up at their door during the day to ask John some questions. Mary gets home soon after and enters in through the kitchen, so she can only hear their voices but there's something oddly familiar.

"...and you knew your neighbor pretty well?"

"Decently well," John answers, sounding confused. "I mean, my wife and I have only lived here a little while, but they were always super nice and welcoming. Why do you ask?"

"It's just strange," Another voice chimes in and Mary stiffens; she _definitely_ knows that voice. "...that a guy that was normally so nice and welcoming, would suddenly become reclusive and prone to fits of anger, and then kill his wife."

Mary gasps in the kitchen; she'd known Mrs. Stone had died, but she didn't know it had been Mr. Stone that had done it. It was unbelievable for so many reasons, but mostly because the couple had been together for almost 40 years and there was no way, in his right mind, that Mr. Stone would do that.

John had heard her though, he must have, because he's jumped up off the couch and is now in the kitchen with her. "Mare, hey. I didn't hear you come in." His face hardens. "Sorry you had to hear that."

The _"officers"_ follow him, and Mary receives them with wide, wary eyes. It seems to take them a moment, but the taller one-Sam, if she remembers correctly, recognizes her first. His reaction is much like hers, but he recovers quickly enough.

"Mrs. Colt,"

"Call me Mary," She replies shortly. He flushes and shoots a glance at his partner, who still hasn't seemed to place her although she certainly seems familiar to him. Sam hits his arm.

"Mary, this is Officer Grohl and Officer Hawkins, they're just talking to some people in the neighborhood about the murders. Trying to piece some stuff together."

"I'm sure." She nods brusquely and turns away. "I'm sure my husband filled you in as much as he could."

They insist on asking a few more questions, although it's Dean doing most of the talking. Sam is just looking at her, then at John, a curious expression on his face while Dean seems like he could really care less about them. When they leave, Sam shakes both their hands and offers a warm smile, thanking them for their time. She decides she likes him best.

"Dude, what the hell?" Sam grumbles at him when they return to the Impala, slamming the doors in sync with one another. Dean is fixing his jacket and looking away. "You didn't have to be so rude to her."

"I wasn't rude," His brother replied defensively. "You didn't have to suck up to them so much. They're just witnesses, Sam."

He was silent for a moment in return. "I think we should watch their house, Dean. There's something...something off about it."

Dean gapes at him. "I didn't sense anything off."

"Their names are John and Mary, Dean." He says, as if it means something. Dean barks out a laugh.

"You have got to be kidding me..."

"If there's demonic activity in this town, and their house is near the center of it, I don't think it'd be too much to guess to watch it. That and don't you remember her? About...7, 8 years ago, that haunting in Connecticut? The Elmore place?"

Dean's eyebrows furrowed until his face opened up in a awestruck moment, for only a moment, then returned to it's usual, underwhelmed self. "Doesn't mean anything. She has a knack for being at the wrong place, wrong time."

"We've watched more, for less. Just until the next attack."

Dean stares at him, examining his face. "Why are you so dead set on this?"

"It's just...its a feeling."

"Yeah well, last time you started having these feelings, stuff didn't turn out so well for us." He shifted the car into drive. "Fine. We'll come back later, and then the next few nights. But if nothing happens, we look somewhere else."

Two days later, Mary disappears from the place where she works, a residue of sulfur left behind. Sam hates to say I told you so, but he does anyway.

* * *

John is insistent that he joins the two men on the search for his wife. Dean is not pleased; he's 52 now and his body hurts and dammit, he's too fuckin' old to be dealing with this shit but John is just too damn annoying so he tells him to sit in the back and shut the hell up until they get where they're going.

Sam pinpoints the possible location of the demon to one of three places and when the first two come up empty handed, they turn up at an old abandoned warehouse (cause _that_ always turns out well) and go inside. They've explained the ins and outs to John, because what he wants to do is call more police. Dean and Sam have to delicately explain that they can't do that, but the Marine in John doesn't take too kindly to that answer.

"Look, this is my wife in there, and I have to keep her safe. We need to call the police..."

"And tell them what?" Dean rounds on him quickly. "That a demon has taken your wife and tied her up in an abandoned warehouse with the intent to kill her? They'll throw in a padded room real quick."

John has paled considerably, because he's pretty sure that this old guy just said a _demon_ has his wife, and he begins to feel like maybe he's with the wrong people. Sam seems to see the doubt, because he steps in.

"We know it sounds crazy, but we promise, we've been doing this our whole lives. The creepy occurrences at your house and the murders in your neighborhood were omens, along with some other patterns we've identified. We don't know why, but something grabbed your wife from the museum. That's where the sulfur came from. And, probably the signs of struggle." He sighs, and his eyebrows furrow. "I know it's really hard to believe, but you have to trust us. We know what we're doing."

John just stares at him, and he doesn't know if its the way this guy is looking at him (cause seriously, for a guy in his late 40's, the puppy dog thing still works) or the way he's explained it, but he nods his head and just feels like this is the right thing to do. He trusts them, implicitly, and realizes he has all along because he wouldn't be outside this warehouse in the middle of the night if he hadn't.

"Why her?" He asks as they enter the warehouse. "Why take Mary?"

"We don't know that quite yet," Dean answers softly. "But when we find the demons, we'll find out."

"Demons? Now there's more than one?" John asks incredulously. Sam looks at him with pity.

"We know it's a lot to take. But the...the way they took her, the way this entire thing has worked out, it seems planned. And if they're planning something, there's usually more than one."

"So...did they know you guys would be here too?"

Dean and Sam exchange a look; it was something they had discussed. The patterns were too designed to be chance, and they wondered if this was a trap being set. If it was, it only made them want to look into it more.

"Probably some hunters," Dean shrugs, playing it off. "Not us particularly."

John opens his mouth to ask more questions, but is silenced as they are ambushed as they walk in the door. Sam is knocked unconscious and Dean's arm is caught and twisted around as he lunges at his attacker, the knife in his hand clattering to the floor. His captor punches him in the face and he falls unconscious. John stares, wide-eyed and fearful, and will later feel ashamed that his Marine days seem to have left him in that moment. The three of them are taken to a small room in the back and thrown inside, and the heavy door shuts with a metallic clank as their captors walk away.

So much for a search and rescue.

* * *

"I feel like I know you," John whispers in the dark room. Dean doesn't even look at him, still on his knees at the door, trying to find a way out. Sam, though, Sam does. And his eyes are sad.

"How d'ya mean?" He asks softly.

John shrugs, because he can't explain it, so he changes the subject. "You've been doing this your whole lives?"

"Yeah," Sam smirks, kick his foot at an invisible rock. "My dad, he raised us in it. Our mom..." He trails off, and he looks over at Dean who either can't, or won't, hear. He lowers his voice. "She died in a house fire when we were real little. It was...a demon."

Suddenly, the air feels thin to John, like when his Dad made them get out of their truck on top of Pike's Peak when he was 7. He swallows. "A demon. Like...like the one that has Mary?"

Sam shakes his head fast. "No, no. We killed it...we killed it a long time ago."

_...they say this gun can kill anything..._

_Yellow eyes wide...cracklepophisslight**gone**..._

John closes his eyes tightly, and shakes his head. "I don't like this. I don't like it." He rises up. "Dean, you figured that door out yet?"

Dean doesn't have a chance to answer though, because the door swings open and there's a woman standing there; a woman with black eyes. John feels Sam's hand on his chest as he pushes him behind him.

"Sammy, you're coming with me." She says silkily, and motions for him to move. Dean is stiff and scowling deeply but Sam settles him with a look and rises to his feet and follows her into the room where John is sure Mary is being kept. He really wants to go, but Sam, somehow knowing that, shakes his head slightly and John wills himself to do what they say, because they're the experts and in the end, it will be these brother's who save their ass, not him, as much as he hates that. A man steps through the doorway and the woman closes it with a shit eating grin. John's blood feels like ice water.

Dean inches over to John's side of the room, and the man flicks his wrist and sends Dean flying into the wall behind John. He scrambles back, plastering himself next to Dean, whispering if he's okay and Dean grunts in response before straightening. He glares at the demon, and John is frustrated because he wants to know what's going on, why they're here, why its them, but Dean isn't saying a word and he just wants to know.

"Demons lie, John." He explains, like he can read John's mind but its really just cause the younger man is twitching like he has an itch. "Don't give him anything."

"The student becomes the teacher," The man says smoothly, a grin on his face as he walks closer. "Dean. John. So good to see you both again."

John's face twitches as the demon starts to taunt them and he presses harder into the wall as if he can meld into it and away from this whole thing. Dean's eyes haven't left the possessed man in front of them.

"I mean, I know John's not going to remember me...but you, Dean. You, I expected better from. We spent so much time together downstairs." He eyes him pointedly and Dean gapes. It's not Alastair, but Hell is full of demons and Alastair had his cronies. He shoots a look at John, and wonders what the hell this guy means.

"Sinclair, Dean-o. I've taken up Alastair's position since your brother inconveniently disposed of him all those years ago."

Dean's face falls, and John's heart begins to race cause if Dean looks scared then this can't be good. He presses himself closer to him and Dean glares at him quickly, not enthused by the physical proximity. He turns back to the demon Sinclair.

"What is with those names, really? Did your parents want you to get beat up on the playground?"

"Ah, the witty repartee, I've missed that about you Dean." He turned his sight back to John. "John was much more the strong and silent type."

Dean shoots John a look but he keeps staring straight at the demon, his face set in a scowl and he laughs. "The more things change, I guess..."

"Shut up, and leave them alone. If me and Sam is what you wanted, you got us. Let them go."

"Oh no, no, no, Dean. This is most of the fun." He kneels now in front of them, and John wants to lash out and hurt him but he can't move. He swallows hard.

"What do you want from us?" John has found his voice, but Sinclair ignores him, because it's Dean who will understand this, and it's Dean who will hurt. Sinclair smiles darkly at him.

"Surely you've guessed, Dean. I mean, John here, he can't know, probably hasn't even considered the possibility, but you. You know what's out there, what's possible." The man sits Indian style now, legs crossed like he's about to tell a story. "Souls are recycled, you know. Reused. And this one...his, and Mary's, they're tarnished. Well used. And you can't get a stain like 100 years of hell out of one for damn sure. That's something that'll stick with you."

Dean growls, low in his throat, and it feels like John's stomach is filled with creepy crawlies. He turns his head to look at his fellow captive, and Dean avoids his eyes.

"Are you saying that this kid...this guy..." Dean looks like he kind of wants to throw up, which does nothing for John's nerves. He swallows hard.

"And her." Sinclair jerks his head toward the closed door. "My...associate, and your brother are probably having a similar conversation right now. Although Mary and Sam don't have quite the same in common as you and John Boy here do."

"I'm gonna kill you."

Sinclair smiles and climbs to his feet. "That'll be an experience, seeing as you're the one pinned to a wall. But I've heard never to underestimate a Winchester." He glances between the two men. "New, and old."

He left the room then without another word, happy with the bomb he'd left, and let the steel door clang shut behind him. John and Dean relax off the wall. John gazes up at Dean.

"What the hell did all of that mean?"

Dean doesn't answer.

* * *

Sam and Mary soon join them in their room, and the older men avert their eyes as the couple greets each other with a deep kiss and tears (for Mary, at least). Dean motions for Sam to follow him into a corner of the room, and they begin furtively whispering to the other.

John pulls Mary to the opposite side of the room and begins checking her over for bumps and bruises, to which she assures him there are none.

"What did that other one tell you?" She asks seriously.

John shrugs, cause he really didn't understand any of the conversation that had taken place before. "He mentioned Hell. Said Dean had been there." He swallowed then, his mouth suddenly dry. "Made it sound like I'd been there too, which is just..._ridiculous_."

He wants to laugh at just how ridiculous it is, but suddenly, the situation is just not funny. He stares at the arguing brothers.

_Souls are recycled, you know. Reused._

Mary's nodding now. "Yeah, I know. Just...some of the stuff the woman said was...ridiculous." She repeated lamely. She closes her eyes and doesn't say any more. She just thinks about what the demon woman was saying, about deals with devils, and the story of a woman who gave away her sons' innocence before they had the chance to do it themselves, and all she can think about is a man with yellow eyes from childhood nightmares, and of tea parties with dolls she named Dean and Sam.

They stand quietly, because there's really not anything else they want to say, and they hold each other as the men's voices rise with the intensity of their argument. As they strain to hear, Dean's tone takes on an authoritative note and the young couple realizes the argument is close to over.

"...because even if it is their souls, Sam, it doesn't matter because it's not them. And you know that. We need to get them out of here safe, that's it." He hissed. "You have anything to write with? Anything we can use to make a Trap? Chalk, or...or...or, a paint stick or something?"

"Um...guys?" Mary calls over. "I have some chalk."

The hunters stop dead in the middle of their argument. "Why the hell do you have chalk?" Dean asks.

She shrugs. "I was brainstorming at the museum. We don't have the greatest budget and it's an old building, so we have a chalkboard instead of a dry erase one. Besides, I like it. I keep a few sticks with me in case they break."

"Whatever." And for the first time that day, Dean smiles. "Well, we can definitely use chalk."

* * *

When they lumber out of the warehouse, leaving two bodies behind, Mary is clinging to John as if she can't walk on her own and Sam and Dean are following behind to make sure nothing else is coming. The symbols Dean drew by the door effectively trapped both the demons near the doorway and after a few simple lines of Latin, black smoke billowed out of their mouths and into the ground as if it were never there at all. The most terrifying part of the whole thing was that it wasn't all that unfamiliar.

They ride back to the house in silence. Mary insists that the men stay the night-the least she can do for them is offer some hot showers and warm meals-and Sam gets the feeling she's trying to take care of them. He decides to let her, and finds its not difficult to convince Dean of it either.

It's cold out later that night, and John still can't sleep. Mary was barely able to too, but a sip of some whiskey and she was out for the count; she never was a girl who could hold her liquor. He slides out of bed and walks softly down the hallway, avoiding the creaky parts of the wood and comes to the living room to find Sam snoring on the couch, his brother's leather jacket draped over his large torso. Dean is nowhere in sight.

John looks outside and sees the old man sitting on the hood of the ebony ride, a classic if John's ever heard of one, and it sure is beautiful. He's not sure if he's commented on it yet, and the events of the day are still gnawing on his consciousness so he goes outside with two beers in hand to see if he can get answers out of Dean that he wasn't willing to give earlier.

Dean eyes him warily as he hears him come closer, but spies the bottles in his hand and scoots over, almost as if resigning himself to his fate. "Thought I'd gotten away with not having to answer your questions."

"Questions?" John smiles. "I just wanted to have a beer with you on this gorgeous piece of machinery."

That seems to be a good way to soften Dean up, cause he grins and pets the hood of the vehicle. "Yeah, she is a beauty. Built her back from the ground up myself years ago. Probably even before your time." The ghost of something passes across his face, but he purses his lips and opens the beer, craning his neck towards the stars as he sips it.

He stays quiet, and hopes that if he's silent long enough, that maybe Dean will start talking, that he'll shed some light on whatever the hell it was that happened here earlier. That maybe, it'll explain the nightmares and the feelings that plague him sometimes that he never really understands.

"It was my dad's," He begins. "We uh...we were in an accident and it just fuckin'...twisted the thing up like a pretzel, you know? The frame was shot to hell, and no one thought i'd be able to do it." Dean nods now. "But I did."

"Did your dad help?"

Dean doesn't answer. "What do you want, John? You came out here for something other than to talk about my car."

John hesitates, cause he doesn't want to upset the guy. He likes him, and wants him to like him back, and he's seen what the guy can do in a fight. And even though John was a Marine, and can hold his own, he really doesn't want to piss him off.

But he has to know.

"What did Sinclair mean earlier? About recycled souls?"

Dean sighs and looks at the beer bottle, as if one will not be enough for this, and takes a swig, staying silent still. "I guarantee you, if you don't fill me in, the things we come up with is gonna be worse. And we'll try and find out ourselves." He adds the last part because a part of him knows the last thing Dean wants him doing is allowing their lifestyle to become John and Mary's lifestyle, and the anger that sparks in Dean's eyes proves him right.

"Reincarnation, I think." He spits out. "I think they were trying to make us think that you and Mary..." He trails off. "It doesn't matter, even if you were someone else in a past life. That's not who you are now."

John stays silent for a moment before answering, trying to word the question right. "That I was some guy who spent time in Hell?"

Dean closes his eyes. John continues.

"Did you too?"

Dean takes another sip. "Doesn't matter."

For some reason, that pisses John off a lot. His eyes narrow. "How?_ Why_?"

Dean hung his head. "Kid, this is a really complicated business, alright? Why does it matter how?"

John's glare didn't relent. Dean shook his head. "You can make deals, with demons. You call them, and you make deals. And I..." He swallowed. "I lost someone close to me, and I had to get him back. It was the only way."

"And me? Or who I was?" John was pushing, and Dean was twitching, and John knew he was just asking for a beatdown but he didn't really care. "What did he do?"

Dean swallows hard. "Why does it matter, John?"

"Because I deserve to know! If these things are coming for my wife and I, if they're going to use this, I need to know."

"They won't come after you again."

"You can't promise us that." And he knows, deep inside, that that is the very truth of this whole thing, and it's not the first time John considers learning more about this stuff, about being prepared.

"Don't do that to your family, John." Dean's looking at him sadly. "Don't raise your kids like our dad raised us."

It's not advice. Its a request, and the fury and indignation John is feeling extinguishes. "I just want to know." He responds weakly.

The silence stretches for awhile, and they drink their beers and they don't look at each other until they're done. Dean picks at the lable. "Another round? Answer some of those questions for you?"

John's heart feels light in his chest. "Thank you. Yeah. I'll go..." He motions, then runs inside.

They've drank 3 more beers a piece before it's done. Dean doesn't tell him too much; they shoot the shit more than anything but what he does tell is enough.

"You...the guy you were, his son, he was like, almost dead. The doctors couldn't do anything, so he made a deal." He shrugged and avoided John's eyes. "And later, some door to downstairs got opened up and you climbed right out. Unlike anything i'd ever seen."

He scoffed and took a swig, and John wanted to ask him what he was doing there, but he doesn't have to.

Daybreak is nearing when they finish up and they're going inside, prepared to get just enough sleep for the next morning.

"You shouldn't be angry with him, you know." John says softly, before retreating to his room. Dean's brow furrows.

"With who?"

"Your pops." He filled in. "I mean, he'd probably be really mad at you for doing what you did for Sam, because he wouldn't want you to have to experience that. Hell, I mean...I mean, it's Hell, you know? And you're probably real mad about what he did for you. But it's just because he loved you." He shrugs. "Maybe that's what this was all about. Reconciling that with yourself."

Dean doesn't say anything, doesn't even look at him. "Goodnight, John. I'll see you in the morning."

John realizes that's about all he's gonna get from him, so he bites his lips, realizing he's said too much. He nods. "G'night Dean."

* * *

When they leave the next day, after Mary has made waffles and insisted they eat before they leave, they follow the men out to their porch to say goodbye. Sam lumbers over to the old black car first and leans against the passenger side door, as if the idea that he would be driving never even crossed his mind, and John realizes it hasn't. Because Dean is the older one, and Dean is always the one in charge. John thinks about how unfair that is, for the both of them.

"You guys take care of yourselves." The older man orders gruffly. John nods with a 'yessir' and shakes Deans hand, and Mary offers a tight smile as she leans against John heavily. She looks about ready to burst into tears. Dean's not even halfway down the drive when she calls to him.

"Wait!" She leaps down the steps and flings her arms around him in a tight hug, and he looks like he couldn't have been more surprised but he hugs her back. She's crying and babbling, but John can't hear that, can't hear her repeating that she's sorry, over and over again. He leans back against the doorway of the house, though, and he's okay with whatever is happening, because he realizes that Mary seems to have some reconciliation of her own that she needs to be doing.

Dean is still in shock as he holds the girl that is young enough to be his daughter in his arms as she cries and asks him to forgive her, says that she's sorry and that she didn't mean to do this. He hushes her and smooths her hair and tells her that it's not her fault, that she's not that woman, and that she has nothing to apologize for. He waits for her tears to subside before he pulls away and wipes her face and speaks softly to her so that only she can hear him. She nods and steps back, crossing her arms over her chest. He nods then once more and turns to leave and when he gets to the car, Sam shoots him a questioning glance that he shakes off. He looks back up to the porch of the home where Mary has now rejoined her husband, and he raises an arm in goodbye. John waves back, and he and Mary stand there long after the roar of the old engine has faded around the corner.

* * *

Dean dies a few years later, and Sam thinks it's dark irony that it's not a vampire, werewolf or shapeshifter that gets him but cancer. Sam only lasts a few years after that himself, on a lone hunt where his age, and lack of speed and partner, get the better of him.

In the fall of that same year that Dean dies, Mary and John finally conceive after trying for years. The following summer, Mary gives birth to a healthy, squalling boy. Her first boy, she thinks, smiling as John kisses her sweaty brow.

They name him Dean.


End file.
